


translation

by days4daisy



Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Cemetery, Extra Treat, Fog, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Skeletons, Trick or Treat: Treat, apes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-18 12:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16118333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: Treetops vanish in this fog like the beasts who once lorded over the island. Only the youngest of their proud line remains, the one whose eyes are locked on Conrad.





	translation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



> Happy Halloween, sweetcarolanne!

This mist is the least penetrable of Conrad’s five missions to Skull Island. In a land of prehistoric beasts, the ability to see and sense are more vital than ever. Twin pistols holstered to Conrad’s sides do little to slow his throbbing pulse.

The fog swims over a valley of bones. White skeletons cut through clouds like teeth gouging day-old meat.

No matter how many times Conrad returns to Skull Island, a chill always touches him in this place. Treetops vanish in this fog like the beasts who once lorded over the island. Only the youngest of their proud line remains, the one whose eyes are locked on Conrad.

Conrad sees Kong now, a hulking shade in the mist. A growl rises as the beast stands to his full height. After all this time, Kong remains impossible to believe. His eyes gleam like polished gold, and he bears teeth large as Conrad himself.

Conrad no longer fears Kong as he once did, but Kong is wary of Conrad’s presence today. Conrad understands. To Conrad, this is the site of a bloody confrontation with monsters. To Kong, it is the resting place of his family. These are the ruins of Kong’s mother and father, the bones of his beloved kin.

This is sacred ground to Kong. No one, not even Conrad, has earned a place in it.

“I wouldn’t care for someone canvassing my parents’ gravesite either.” Conrad does not remember the last time he spoke of his own family. His chest tightens.

Slowly, Conrad crouches; at ease, non-threatening. If Kong accepts Conrad, he will stay. If not, he will go. A simple choice.

Life is easier here than it ever was post-discharge. After the war, they told Conrad his whole life was ahead of him. But he saw too much with the SAS, far too much. In Saigon, Conrad lived off pool winnings and dangerous tracking missions. Tracking is what Conrad is good at, an artform with no place in polite society. Unbeknownst to Kong, he has changed the course of Conrad’s life simply by existing.

Tracking brings Conrad to the valley today. There is an open vent 2 kilometers east that Conrad volunteered to look into. His Monarch crew on this expedition is green. No Weaver, no San. They are first timers as eager to give Conrad space as Conrad is to be free of them.

Kong stares at Conrad across the mist. After a pause, he huffs, then plants himself in the dirt. The earth trembles under Conrad’s feet.

Conrad smiles at the mirror of his own pose. Kong has weighed his presence and approved, albeit reluctantly. Without words, they understand one another. It is hard to believe even after all this time.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Conrad says.

Funny, offering sympathy to a thing that should not comprehend it. But Conrad does not need studies put together by behavioral experts at Monarch to know Kong can. Kong is here to mourn the loss of his family. No theory typed in any case file will convince Conrad otherwise.

“It must be hard for you,” Conrad says. “You were left a responsibility you never asked for. You love this place, but the burden of protection is... You do so much for everything here. That must be difficult to do alone.”

Kong squints at Conrad. “You don’t know what I’m saying," Conrad says, smiling, sheepish. "It’s alright. I project myself on you. I think Weaver does too, and the Iwi. You can be many things to many people.”

Kong replies with a rumbled sound, something like curiosity. It is easy to believe the beast capable of understanding, but if Kong is not, it is just as well. Conrad trusts few to hear his honest thoughts. Kong may not comprehend, but he listens. The attention is more than Conrad is used to.

Conrad is here to monitor for Skullcrawlers or other intruders from the open vent. But Kong has come to mourn, and he allows Conrad only because Conrad leaves his family at peace. This scout will last a few more days, and Conrad has the easy excuse of this weather for his failure to reach the vent. Conrad can return tomorrow when he won't risk disrespect.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Conrad says. Quietly, he begins his retreat.

Thundering steps advance behind Conrad. He freezes, heart in his throat. What if he misjudged?

Kong stares down at Conrad with a heavy slant to his brow. It hits Conrad that he should be afraid. He should run, try to slip away in this fog, but...

Kong sits abruptly. The impact disturbs fallen leaves and other debris. With a snort, Kong lays a hand palm up on the earth. Kong’s hand is massive, tall as Conrad’s chest. The flesh on the inside is soft and oil-black, no sign of the blood drawn by helicopter rutters years ago.

Conrad rests a cautious hand on Kong’s palm. His fingers barely span the width of one of its many creases.

Kong gazes at Conrad a moment longer, then returns his eyes to the valley. “Oh,” Conrad says, mystified, a bit breathless. “Ok, sure.”

Kong’s thumb folds, and the pad presses to Conrad’s stomach. Conrad tenses on instinct, body hooked in Kong's grasp. But he understands when Kong squeezes him and huffs a quiet sound. The beast’s lonely gaze lingers on the remains of those he once loved.

With a stuttered breath, Conrad accepts the stroke of Kong’s thumb. He keeps a hand on Kong’s leathery palm. “I know,” Conrad whispers, raising his eyes.

Though Kong does not return his look, Conrad knows the beast hears him.

*The End*


End file.
